


The Cat and the Princess

by flipflop_diva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Established Relationship, F/F, HP: EWE, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Vaginal Fingering, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-10 07:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12294279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: Later, she would blame it on the mood of the party. Why else would she end up in the bathroom of the Three Broomsticks having sex with a cat? (Which is not at all what it sounds like.)





	The Cat and the Princess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maraudersaffair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/gifts).



> Written for the 2017 Femslash Exchange. 
> 
> Happy early Halloween!

Later, she would blame it on the mood of the party — on the inky blackness of the Three Broomsticks, lit only with the soft orange glow of a thousand Jack O’Lanterns floating in the air, on the Firewhiskys freely pouring (even if she was only drinking Butterbeers), on the haunting music played by the band of ghosts, occasionally interspersed by tunes that practically pulled you out of your chair and forced you out on to the dance floor. But mostly, she would blame it on the heat of the bodies swarming around her and, especially, on the one who had been tantalizing close to the far edge of her sight the entire night.

That one was dressed as a kitten, the tight black suit showing off every curve of her lithe body, making it hard for Hermione to look at anything else. The black mask she had on covered the top half of her face, but not the smirk of her lips or the way her tongue kept running over her teeth, almost daring Hermione to taste that perfect mouth for herself.

Hermione had forced herself to keep her distance, to dance with Harry and Ron and Ginny and Luna. She had tried her hardest not to look, and not to desire, and not to burn with envy when the kitten smirked at her before dancing entirely too close to Daphne Greengrass.

They had made a pact, Pansy and Hermione, on those dark, quiet nights when only the sound of their breathing could be heard in one of their small bedrooms — it was too soon to tell anyone, it was too early to go public. It had been years since the war, years since they were truly enemies — if they even ever had been — but Hermione’s best friends still didn’t trust Pansy. And Pansy’s parents would be horrified to know the girl she was dating wasn’t pure of blood. The Wizarding world as a whole would still judge them for their choices.

Which is why it was a good plan, to keep it just between them. It was a sane plan. It was Hermione’s plan.

But looking over at Pansy, watching her dance much too close to Daphne, who was laughing and whispering in Pansy’s ear …

Damn the plan.

“I’ll be right back,” Hermione said to Ron and Harry, who were too busy debating the latest Quidditch match to even notice her. She placed her Butterbeer down on the closest table and made her way through the crowd, the full skirt of the princess costume Pansy had dared her to wear getting snagged by the crowd of dancers.

She passed behind Pansy, close enough that the satin of her dress brushed the black fur of Pansy’s costume, whispering as she went, “Bathroom. Three minutes. Don’t be late.”

•••

Hermione was sitting on the edge of the counter, her dress spread out around her, when Pansy came in, exactly on time.

“Good girl,” Hermione said as soon as the door closed behind Pansy. She lifted her wand, quickly casting spells to keep it that way.

Pansy smirked. “I think people might notice when the bathroom is locked for an inordinate amount of time.”

“Let them notice.”

“And when they notice when we walk out together?”

Hermione took a breath. “Let them notice that, too.”

Pansy quirked a brow at her. “Are you sure?”

“Are you going to keep asking questions or are you going to fuck me?”

Pansy’s smirk curved into a grin. And then she was across the room, standing between Hermione’s legs, leaning over her but not actually touching her.

“I’ve always wanted to taste a princess,” Pansy hummed, and then she dropped out of sight.

Hermione started to sit up but was stopped by the feeling of something furry against her leg, slowly stroking its way up. It was almost intoxicating, not being able to see Pansy beneath the folds of her dress but feeling Pansy’s cat-gloves caressing the skin of her legs, moving over her ankles and her shins, past her knees and up her thighs. And then …

Hermione moaned as a finger was placed in the center of her knickers, pressing hard against her.

“I can feel how wet you are even through my gloves,” came Pansy’s muffled voice, somewhere beneath Hermione’s dress. Pansy rubbed her finger back and forth, almost painfully slow. Hermione shifted on the counter, trying to get Pansy to move faster, but instead a fur-covered hand grabbed hold of her thigh, holding her in place.

Hermione leaned her head back, resting it against the mirror. Part of her wanted to tell Pansy to come up, so they could both take off their clothes and go at it properly on the counter of the Three Broomstick’s bathroom, but there was something in the agonizing way Pansy was stroking her, something about the friction of the cloth of her knickers mixed with the pressure of Pansy’s finger rubbing against her most intimate places. 

Pansy’s fingers were moving faster now, and as Hermione shifted again, she felt Pansy push on her thigh, spreading her open wider. 

And then, just when Hermione didn’t think she could take it anymore, she felt her knickers pushed to the side and the fur of Pansy’s glove make contact with her body.

Hermione groaned, on the verge of telling Pansy not to put those gloves inside her, but it was too late. 

Her hips jerked at the sensation and somewhere beneath her she heard the rumble of Pansy’s laugh, but then something warm and wet was latching around Hermione’s clit and sucking hard and a second fur-covered finger had joined the first and both were plunging hard and fast deep inside of her and suddenly Hermione didn’t care that maybe it was unsanitary nor did she care that they were both entirely clothed or that they were in a public bathroom and not in the privacy of their own lofts. All she cared about was the woman below her and the curl of pleasure that was growing inside her, until finally, as Pansy’s teeth bit down on Hermione’s clit, that pleasure exploded, leaving Hermione crying out as her body shuddered under Pansy’s ministrations.

It took Hermione a few seconds to come back to herself. She opened her eyes to see Pansy standing up again, wiping her mouth with a now very wet furry glove.

“Princesses taste good,” Pansy said, and there was that smirk again. “Want to see how a cat tastes?”

Hermione didn’t have to be asked twice.


End file.
